Page 123 of Cadence
Or maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to back out.
My phone buzzes on the sofa, and I lunge for it, my fingers smacking the notification.
Beau
Saw her, she’s okay. Not great but not shattered.
Not gonna lie, I kind of expected her to slam the door in our faces. Thank fuck Olive was with us.
That tiny shred of hope inside me, the one I’ve been trying not to feed, stirs, just a little, dangerous and alive at the same time. I exhale, the breath leaving my lungs in a rush like I’ve been holding it in since our plane touched down at LAX.
Did she say anything?
Three dots bounce around the screen, stop, then reappear.
Beau
No. Mostly listened. I don’t think you’ve lost her. Not yet anyway.
I rub a hand over my jaw and sit down on the edge of the couch. My acoustic guitar rests against the back, tuned and ready to go.
Beau
Told her about the live. Olive says she’s going to make sure she’ll watch.
Tell her I say thanks.
I lower my head, my phone dangling between my legs, then it vibrates again.
Beau
For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.
I don’t reply. Instead, I flick over to the message thread with Paige, scrolling through them. Every unanswered one is a bruise, a painful reminder that I am close to losing her, and if this doesn’t work, I will for sure
Still, I send one more.
I know Beau told you about tonight. No pressure, but if you could join… I just need to know you’re okay.
The message sends, the swooping sound matching the whoosh of hornets erupting in my stomach. I place the phone in the stand, check the positioning, and sit on the floor with my acoustic.It’s old, the first one my grandma bought me after telling her I wanted to play guitar, one I didn’t want to touch again after she died, until I found something worth playing on it.
Or someoneworth playing it for.
Nine o’clock hits, and I start the live. The counter begins to spike. 142 viewers, then 311, then 509, and growing rapidly. Comments flood the screen, but I don’t read a single one. The light in my apartment is low, and my voice is even lower as I look into the camera.
“Hey.”
One word and the chat explodes.
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on, and this isn’t some surprise new song or anything.” I swallow, my mouth dry. “This isn’t really a performance either.”
My fingers twitch against the strings, and I lean forward, adjusting the mic.
“It’s something I wrote recently. It’s never been played before, not even for the rest of the band.” I pause, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down on my chest. “It’s about someone I…” I exhale, dropping my head back against the sofa. “Well, it doesn’t matter, really. I just hope she’s watching.”
I shift, straightening my spine, fingers moving to the correct position over the frets.
“And if she is… This is for her.”
